


The Tearing of Souls

by Silicu (silmil)



Category: One Piece
Genre: Angst, M/M, MarcoAce Week, MarcoAce Week 2015, Misery, Post-Marineford, So much angst, prepare your tissues, this is 2500 words of heart wrenching pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-04-06 07:43:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4213596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silmil/pseuds/Silicu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Ace wanted to help Marco, but couldn’t, and one…</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Tearing of Souls

**Author's Note:**

> For the 6th Day of [MarcoAce Week 2](http://deer-head-xiris.tumblr.com/post/118649606810/marcoace-week-2), Misery. Let's just say, this is your own fault.

1.

Marco takes his responsibilities seriously.

He always has, Ace knows this. He’s seen him care for his brothers tirelessly, so often and with such ease that it doesn’t even seem to be a chore for him. He never gets drunk, because he has to be there to keep the real party-goers from overdoing it and hurting themselves. He never sleeps too deeply, because if something happens he has to be right there ahead of all of them to keep them safe. He never allows himself more than a couple hours leisure at a time, because with a crew as big as theirs, there is always a crisis to be taken care of.

But now it’s different. Now that Pops is gone, all the choices and responsibilities fall on _his_ shoulders. Now, for the first time, Ace can see them weighing him down. Marco is overtaxed and overworked and he can’t let it show. Because now that Pops is gone they all turn to him for answers and directions, but also for support.

And now, when even Marco is just _barely_ holding himself together, he has to be the rock that keeps their entire family stable, like Pops used to be.

Ace loves his brothers, he really does, but he feels like screaming at them more often than not these days. Why can’t they see how much harder they’re making this for Marco? Why can’t they see how every island they fail to protect from Teach, every brother who finds the family lacking now that Pops is gone, weigh on Marco’s shoulders? Why can’t they see how very personally he takes every slip, every loss, every failure?

Ace never once thinks that Marco has failed, never once judges him lacking. The man has been devastated ever since that day at Marinefort and yet he’s had to carry the weight of looking after everyone else, when no one finds the decency to as much as offer him a hand.

He’s _trying_ with everything he has to make the best of a bad situation, to hold onto that little influence that the Whitebeard Pirates still carry, to protect those most loyal who still sail under Pops’ flag.

But every time his efforts prove futile, Marco just bends lower and lower under the pressure of it all. And seeing that, Ace wonders just how much he can take before he finally snaps, before he _breaks_. He wonders, and as his words fail to reach the Phoenix, he hates that there is nothing he can do.

2.

Marco is quiet.

He always has been. It’s something Ace notices the moment he starts paying attention. He knows how to attract and keep people’s attention without raising his voice. He doesn’t need to be loud to be heard, and most often than not, doesn’t bother. Even during parties, he chuckles to himself when everyone else is roaring with laughter; he sits and listens to everyone’s stories, not because he doesn’t want to share his own, but because he likes listening to theirs better.

Marco prefers knowing people to being known. Ace thinks it’s because he’s so old he doesn’t think anyone can really know him, but Ace also thinks that’s bullshit and that Marco should know better.

He’s a better listener than he’s a speaker, because his quiet attention puts those around him at ease. And even in knowing others, he prefers observing and puzzling them out for himself, rather than asking. Ace couldn’t shake the feeling Marco knew just about all there was to know about Ace long before he ever got to telling him himself.

But the silence is different now. Where it used to be comfortable and relaxed, like he always was, it’s heavy and stifling with all the things he isn’t saying. Like there’s a dam inside Marco that’s just waiting to break and everyone can tell, and they want to be far away when it happens.

It makes the air around him hard to breathe, it makes him distant and unreachable in a way his quiet nature never did before.

There’s this sinking suspicion in Ace, that at least part of it is intentional. That Marco is pulling away, sinking deeper into himself and locking out the rest. That he’s making it seem like a natural separation in a time of hardship, where there’s something else entirely happening beneath the surface.

He hates thinking this, but it _hurts_ , when Marco never answers when Ace tries to fill the silence.

3.

Marco doesn’t sleep much.

Ace has never known him to have a stable sleeping schedule. Despite of being the First Division Commander, he often takes watches during the night, especially when there are things he still needs to finish regarding the every-day workings of the crew, or if it’s a night when he expects to be needed by his brothers.

He sacrifices sleep like it’s nothing, and Ace supposes maybe it is. “ _I’ll sleep enough when I’m dead, eh_ ,” he jokes once, before he turns very serious and very sad, “ _or when you all are_.”

That, Ace knows, is a big fat lie. Because now that Pops is dead he sleeps worse than Ace has ever seen him before. He doesn’t go back to his cabin for days on end, catching fitful naps in the captain’s workroom bent over maps and files. And even when he can hardly keep his eyes open and his body threatens to collapse on him if he doesn’t get some actual rest, he can’t find it.

Exhausted as he might be, it doesn’t take long before he’s thrashing in bed, covers and sheets wrapping around him and trapping him until he finally rolls himself to the floor and back to wakefulness with a _thump_.

But those aren’t the worst nights, no. The _worst_ are when he won’t move at all. When he sinks so deep into his nightmares that his body can’t even respond, when he just shakes in his sleep and wakes to a wet pillow and a scratchy throat.

And no matter how much Ace wishes to help, no matter how much he tries, not even wrapping himself completely around Marco makes a difference. It just brings him close enough to hear the broken whispers of “ _don’t go, don’t leave me, don’t go_ ” and smell the salt of Marco’s tears, as he desperately tries to hold him from shaking apart.

4.

Marco is solitary.

Ace notices him spending his free time on his own, whenever he can get away with it. On some of his rare free days, Ace sees him in phoenix form perched on the top of the sails where few people can bother him, just resting, looking over everyone and enjoying the weather.

Even after they become _them_ , Marco often lounges next to Ace while he naps, one hand carding through his hair and a book in the other, just enjoying the peace of a solitary moment. He doesn’t need his brothers around him _all_ the time to be content.

It isn’t like that, anymore. He doesn’t simply take a day or an hour away from the rest. He constantly keeps them at arm’s length. It’s like he’s building this wall around himself, whether it’s to protect himself or everyone around him, Ace isn’t sure, but he finds himself wishing for a sledgehammer most days.

He can’t let this happen. He can’t let Marco isolate himself, he can’t let him lock himself away from everyone like this! He _can’t_!

But what can he _do_? He knows how to make Marco smile, he knows how to make him laugh, he knows, _damn it_ , he knows Marco isn’t this lonesome figure, if he could just _talk_ to him…

But he can’t, and as Ace watches even Vista and Izo finally stop trying to coax Marco out of his self-imposed exile, he wishes he could still cry. Maybe if he did, Marco would realize how much he’s breaking Ace’s heart when he locks himself into the captain’s office in the end of each day to fall apart that little bit more, alone.

5.

Marco is tactile.

It’s not something Ace ever expected of him, really. With his mostly quiet demeanor, Ace thought he’d be opposed to casual touches, but Marco proves him wrong long before they fall into bed with each other. From the moment Ace takes Pops’ mark, he is subjected to a full-out _assault_. Arms thrown over his shoulders, pats on the back, hair ruffles, handshakes over the smallest agreements.

And to Ace, who’s been isolating himself from friendly company for months by then, the touches are like a cooling balm against a burn. He’s self-aware enough to realize just how touch-starved he is, but when Marco sits next to him on the deck and casually throws an arm over his shoulders, Ace leans into it, grinning.

That’s how they kiss, the first time, soft and almost casual, as they lean against the railing and against each other one chilly night. It’s not a bomb that explodes between them; it’s not sudden or unexpected. It’s just another natural step in a relationship that seems to have grown between them without any conscious effort from either side. But it’s right and _perfect_ , and Ace loves every second of it.

And it’s not _just_ Ace. Marco’s casual touches are easy and affectionate. Always careful, though – he never overreaches, never makes people uneasy with his position. He’s everyone’s _big brother_ , the one who would offer you a supporting hand when you’re wavering on your feet, and clap you on the shoulder for a job well done.

Ace is certain there are people in the crew that Marco’s touched more than he’s spoken to, and that, if anything still confuses him until this day.

Only it doesn’t, because Marco hasn’t laid a single finger on another human being for close to a _year_ now. Not since the War. The distance he keeps these days isn’t only emotional, and as Ace watches, his heart aches.

Because moments like now, alone and slumped over Pops’ desk, are the closest Marco has ever gotten to touching another person in so many months.

And as he reaches out to the small flame over the candle on the desk, Ace flinches when Marco’s skin burns and blue flames dance with the lone flicker of red.

“I miss you,” Marco whispers, looking into the mingling flames with _so much_ longing and pain.

And Ace wants to touch him so badly he thinks he might break.

“ _I’m sorry_ ,” he answers in words that never reach the lonely man. And as Ace moves to lay his hands on the back of Marco’s head and bends down to press his face into the tuft of blond hair, there is no response, no evidence of his touch. _“I’m sorry.”_

 

\+ 1.

 _“It’s been a year now,”_ Thach says from beside him, and puts a hand on Ace’s shoulder. He doesn’t even bother shaking it off.

Marco’s back here, _of course_ he’s back here. It’s been a year and there hasn’t been a single day that he hasn’t felt the loss of his father and lover hanging over him. Ace knows this, because it’s been a year of silently watching Marco lose himself in despair.

He thinks this is the worst punishment he ever could have received. Nothing he hasn’t deserved, though.

 _“There’s nothing you can do for him, now,”_ his friend reminds him, and his voice is _quiet_. Like Marco’s is when he really wants to be heard. He wonders if that’s who Thatch learned it from. _“Let him go.”_

Ace wants to scream, to tell Thatch how he has no _right_ to let Marco go because this was all his fault. _His_ stupidity, _his_ mistake, _his_ death. He _did_ this. He did this _to Marco_.

He doesn’t, because Thatch would never listen. He never does, not the hundreds of times Ace has said it. Nothing’s changed between the last time they had this argument and now. Not between them.

The only thing that’s changed is Marco.

Ace feels his chest constrict painfully. Marco, who’s more a ghost than either of them. Marco, who’s been standing before those two graves for _hours_ now, unmoving, unblinking. Silent and alone and so very still, Ace wished he could shake him just to make sure he’s still breathing.

 _“Let’s go, Ace,”_ Thatch urges him, and Ace wonders what he’s seeing. He wonders if Thatch knows. He wonders if Thatch wants to leave, because he can’t bear to witness this.

He _doesn’t_ turn to him, not for a second, not for a glimpse of his face. He’s here for _Marco_ , even if Marco will never know it.

But, _god_ , it hurts to see him like this.

When, finally, Marco moves, so does Ace.

The Phoenix’s steps are silent as he makes his way to the smaller grave and shifts to his knees before it. And as he rests his head against it, Ace falls behind him and wraps him tightly in his arms.

“I love you,” Marco says.

 _“I know, I know, I love you too, you know I do.”_ He mumbles into the back of his shirt.

“I’ll always miss you.”

_“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Marco.”_

He runs his fingers over the cold stone and Ace thinks he’d give _anything_ to take this pain away from him.

Only, he has nothing left _to_ give.

Then Marco stands up and slips right through Ace’s arms and he feels like screaming. The feeling burns in his chest like an inferno, singes everything he is in a way his flames never did. It’s suffocating and destructive and he feels like he’s falling apart.

He doesn’t want to say goodbye.

But then Marco stands before Pops’ grave and can’t look up to it.

“I tried, Pops,” his voice is _shaking_ now. “But I can’t do this by myself.”

And then he turns, pulls the straps of his bag over two shoulders, and bursts into flames.

He _doesn’t_ say goodbye. He doesn’t spare them another glance. He just spreads his wings and catches the winds in a direction opposite from where he came from. Far, _far_ away from the crew.

And Ace, still kneeling before his own grave, discovers that even dead men can cry.

**Author's Note:**

> In case you’re wondering:
> 
>  
> 
> _…and one where there was no one left to help._
> 
>  
> 
> But I thought people shouldn’t know whether to expect a happy ending or not just from the summery :P
> 
> Also, I love all the Whitebeards, so I feel like I need to defend them here. This story is _completely_ from Ace’s POV and Ace is so thoroughly focused on Marco and his pain that he hardly sees the others’ efforts to help. _They try_. They do, but Marco is stubborn and they’re also very shaken from the fight so their best efforts don’t really get them anywhere. Ace doesn’t really blame them, he just doesn’t have anything to lash out at, not even himself. It’s all very emotional and messy and pretty much everyone loses in this. This is what happens when you put a prompt like Misery. I’ll go try to gather my broken heart off the floor, now. (And, yes, Thatch did realize what Marco was doing and wanted to leave because he didn’t want the last he saw of his brother to be his walking away. He blames himself too, in case you were wondering. But he blames Teach, more.)


End file.
